Sorry for Bothering You
Transcript
You open with “Sorry.” Sorry for the text. Sorry for the email. Sorry to interrupt. Sorry to take your time. Sorry, just wondering. Sorry, quick question. Sorry, just me again.
It sounds polite. It feels polite. But underneath it is a quiet belief: that your presence is a burden. That you are interrupting something more important. That your needs, your voice, your message is inherently disruptive unless it’s softened first with an apology.
This is the “sorry for bothering you” reflex—and it runs deeper than etiquette.
It’s a form of emotional pre-apology. Not for something you’ve done wrong, but for taking up space. And the psychology behind it isn’t about manners. It’s about power.
People who apologize for their presence are often the ones conditioned to believe that their impact must be minimized. That to be liked is to be quiet. That to be accepted is to be low-maintenance. That being perceived as considerate means shrinking yourself just enough to make others comfortable.
And this pattern doesn’t emerge in a vacuum. It usually starts early—at school, in families, in relationships where big needs were unwelcome or where speaking up was treated as selfish. You learned to enter conversations through the side door. You learned to open your requests with soft language, just in case someone thought you were too much.
But it’s not just about history. It’s also cultural.
In many workplaces, especially those led by hierarchical or masculine-coded communication norms, directness is praised—until it comes from someone in a lower power position. So people who are socialized to avoid conflict—especially women, BIPOC professionals, and those in junior roles—learn to lead with apology as a kind of social camouflage.
It’s protection dressed as politeness.
And the irony is that the more you apologize for your voice, the easier it is for people to overlook it. Apologizing too much doesn’t make you more likable. It makes you easier to dismiss. It trains others to expect that you’ll always yield.
That doesn’t mean you should drop every expression of courtesy. It just means to notice when your “sorry” is not about empathy, but anxiety.
There’s a difference between: “Sorry, I know you’re busy, I just wanted to ask…” and “I know you have a lot going on—can I ask something quickly?”
One is rooted in shame. The other in respect.
One makes you smaller. The other keeps you whole.
It might feel like just a word. But “sorry” at the wrong moment tells the world how to treat you. It says: This person will wait. This person will yield. This person is unsure they belong.
You do belong. Even when you're asking for something. Even when you're following up. Even when you take up time, space, or attention.
If you’re tempted to apologize for reaching out, try this instead: Thank them for their time. Acknowledge their schedule. Ask directly, clearly, respectfully.
And trust that you are not an intrusion. You're a person speaking. That is never something to be sorry for.